


The Blood On My Hands (Scares Me To Death)

by twentysixlettercombinations



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, lots and lots of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 04:59:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6315760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentysixlettercombinations/pseuds/twentysixlettercombinations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Little drabble for my English class, thought I would upload it</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Blood On My Hands (Scares Me To Death)

**Author's Note:**

> Little drabble for my English class, thought I would upload it

Death was a stranger. We met for the first time at the age of 17, when I crashed down from the sky, reducing a village to ash in my wake, I took mercy upon a broken boy who begged only for you.

We meet again not 6 weeks later, I set light to an army in self defense, and I watch them burn through closed eyes. We were just kids - using guns as toys, wielding weaponry for fun. Reveling in our new found freedom and dancing with death in the night.

Next comes the boy I loved - he traded his teasing smile and hopeful eyes, for hands tied, covered in blood. You were called as justice. And when I slide a knife between his ribs, a part of me dies too. I scream a silent sob into the night and when I closed my eyes I saw you, branded to my eyelids.

You weep with me too.

The bitter taste of betrayal and the fall of the noble means that we meet again. The blood of 367 people are now on my hands.

And as I stare at their lifeless bodies, I see you once more, but this time is different - I look at you and see a mirror image of myself, blonde hair that once shone in the sun, now greased by sweat and tears, burdened by the weight of souls lost in battle and blood dripping like a leaky tap from your hands.

She and I collide like flint and steel, the ground around us burns, and it's only fair that we go up in the blaze. Her lips taste of iron, charred and burned, and eyes, a hopeful flicker of light in the darkest winter. Together we were forged in fire, aged by death - maybe the universe intended for us to meet.

Just moments before now I had her within my arms, her pulse quickening beneath my fingertips, our bodies intertwined as one. And now she is at your mercy, I kiss her as she bleeds.

The metallic taste never leaves my lips.

“I don’t want them, I want you.”

Death has a lover, and how dangerous it is, to love what death can touch.


End file.
